Snow
by Viola Durant
Summary: His soul was pure, as pure as the snow that fell. But purity was something Damien couldn't allow


Disclaimer:

Me: I'm too lazy, Butters you do it, here read this.

Butters: Oh hamburgers, Dani I can't read this! I'll get grounded for sure!

Me: Just do it.

Butters: Oh geez, okay here I go "Dani Dreadful clearly does not own South Park because if she did me and Kenny would be havin' hot amazin' butt-sex"

Voice off in the distance: BUTTERS YOUR GROUNDED!

Butters: Oh hamburgers.

* * *

"Hello there, my name is Phillip but everyone calls me Pip, because they hate me!" Not your average greeting, but it was his. His trademark greeting, that either left one feeling incredibly apprehensive, or with a strong desire to call the teenaged blonde haired Brit just that. Pip… Pip…why people called him such he'd never understand he wasn't someone of great expectations. True, he had no family to speak of, and if he ever met a hungry convict he'd be more inclined to feed him then turn him in. He was never one to cause others misfortune, whether or not they deserved it was not up to him to decide. That was the Lord's job, and he'd leave it to Him.

Which is why he'd let their cruel words fall on deaf ears. Why he'd let their blows fall on numbed skin. He'd smile and say to himself "Oh dear, they've clearly had a bad day, best to let them release their stress on me. Better that I be hurt physically then them emotionally"

His home life was no better than that at school. Instead of receiving condolences from his foster parents about the bruise on his face, he got complete apathy. Instead of them commending him on his achievements he was ignored. And still he'd tell himself "It's quite alright, their just busy with the younger kids, after all there are rather a lot of them. I'm quite able to take care of myself."

At the young age of 16 he'd mastered the art of denial. The art of acting as though he didn't mind, pretending. He was a boy of multifarious talents, acting being one of them.

He prized himself on his ability to keep quiet while he was beaten, to not let their animosity sink into his soul and corrupt it. Tainting it black with their hatred, twisting it until it was no longer recognizable. No, he'd kept his soul pure, pure as the fresh snow that fell in the winter. Yet untouched by sin, by mankind's atrocities. He would not let them stultify his heart.

He'd kept his soul pure; he needed to be able to hold on to that, to know that in the end all his effort wouldn't go to waste. This is why he was fighting this demon with everything he had, why he'd keep on fighting until said end, resisting the temptation to give into sin.

* * *

"Pip" the blonde boy looked up into the eyes of his homeroom teacher who was calling his name. "Would you mind showing our new student, Damien, around ,most people seem to be pretty compatible with you." Pip was so good at his art of denial even the teachers were clueless of the relentless bulling and the jokes that derided his English background. He didn't process what she had said at first, just merely nodded. So it came as a bit of shock when he noticed the noirette starring at him.

What was even more surprising was his ruby red eyes, the color of blood. A rich, deep, and dark color, which just couldn't be natural. Yet try as he might Pip could see no sign that the taller boy was wearing contacts. Even more so of a quandary was that Pip couldn't take his own gray eyes off of the, well, demonic eyes of the other.

"What?" the sound of his voice, Damien's, snapping Pip out of a trance, His voice was deep and surprisingly suave for a teenager. Pip looked down embarrassed at being caught staring, it wasn't like him to stare; After all it was rather impolite.

* * *

People tended to notice that Damien Thorne was different. And he was, without a doubt Damien Thorne was very different. His raven black hair was a hundred percent natural as were his red eyes. Sometimes people would even ask about it, and he'd tell them the truth, whether or not they believed it didn't concern him. "Me? Oh I'm just a demon, the son of the Prince of Darkness." Whether or not they thought he was lying, playing some kind of joke, or telling the truth didn't matter to him. Because no matter what they believed, in the end he always got what he wanted.

At the moment he wanted the boy in front of him, he wanted to rip and shred that soul, for no human should be allowed to have a soul that pure. No one.

* * *

Pip just couldn't get those red eyes out of his recalcitrant mind; he would try to pay attention to the history lesson being taught at the front of the classroom. However every time he found his brain focusing back on those red eyes and what they could possibly mean. Every time he came up with an answer to the quandary it was never an ingenuous one, always sinister. Could it have something to do with the fact his omnivorous eyes kept raking over his body? Taking him in as though he was a fine pig up for slaughter.

The Brit couldn't suppress the animalistic instinct of fight or flight, so when the bell rang he took to flight. He bolted out of the classroom and into the crowded hall as fast as he could. But every time he looked over his shoulder he saw a pair of red eyes and a set of smirking lips.

He was panicking, just who was this boy? Could it be that Pip was overreacting? After all, the teacher did ask Pip to show Damien around. Something told Pip that he wasn't wrong, that all knowing smirk and those blood red eyes could only belong to someone or something evil.

* * *

So the boy wanted to run? Oh Damien would follow, he'd gladly follow. Once he had his eyes set on something he didn't give it up. The only thing that could save that boy now was divine intervention.

Damien didn't see that happening anytime soon, God was obsolete, out-dated and over used. This was the generation of sin, a demon's playground.

A feast like the soul of the boy some 10 yards ahead of him hadn't been seen in a long time. This generation's souls were parsimonious and already tainted with sin, and while they were easier to capture they didn't have the same flavor. Purity, it had been so long since that word had graced his mouth. And just like God purity was becoming obsolete as well.

* * *

Cold air hit Pip's face as he ran out of the front door of the school; snow was falling down lightly on the ground. Covering the old gray snow with fresh _pure _snow. Gray clouds blocked the sun out of view except for pockets of sunshine that managed to escape through holes in the thick blanket of condensation. In this setting Pip found himself relaxing, the sense of paranoia draining from his limbs.

How could anything bad happen on a day as beautiful as this?

It was then he heard the sound of footsteps and malicious laughter, "It's beautiful isn't it Phillip"? Pip stiffen at the use of his real name, it had been years since anyone had used it. "Join me, I can give you reprisal against those you have wronged you. I can give you things you never thought to desire, things you didn't think possible. I can give you a life worth living. Join me, and the world will be yours. I don't ask for much, just your soul"

It was with the last words that Pip snapped out of the trance those soft spoken words had put him in. His soul? No. His soul was his, proof of all the years of denial, of letting people walk all over him, proof that he tried to live a good life, be a good person. This demon wasn't going to take that away from him, at least not willingly. He'd fight to save his soul.

For his soul he'd run, without a second of hesitation he took off down the street, looking for anyone, anything to help him. Letting a broken prayer slip through his chapped lips.

"Oh God, please help me, please. Show me what to do, please….please…." He repeated this plea over and over, until it was the only thing on his mind. His body was on auto pilot, where it was taking him he didn't know. His sides burned, his breath was ragged, he had to get away. He couldn't stop running, not yet.

He ran down an old street in a part of town he'd never been, finding himself at a dead end he looked up at the building blocking his path. There was an old decrepit church, windows broken, holes in the walls. To him it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Consecrated grounds, a demon shouldn't be able to follow him there.

* * *

Damien chuckled as he saw the blonde run into an old church. Its funny how people would believe anything they read out of a book.

* * *

Short of breath Pip sat down in a pew at the front of the church, the walls of the building offering little to no protection against the cold. The old crosses gave Pip a sense of relief, he was safe. For now, but he couldn't live his entire life in an abandoned church, he had to find a way to defeat this demon. But how? He was nothing special just some British boy who moved to America at the age of 10, he'd been bullied his whole life. If he couldn't stop a human bully how could he be expected to fight a demon bully?

It was just that, he _couldn't_. He had no chance against a demon, in the end he'd always lose. He'd always lost, whether it was his hat or lunch money, it's just this time he'd lose his soul, a much more valuable prize.

So he sat and waited, waited for what he'll never know. Maybe for some divine being to save him, or the end. He was Amethystos and Damien was Dionysus. Except this time around there was no Artemis to save him, no tears of wine would be shed for his body. No crystal statue of him would remain as a reminder of the boy that once was. He'd die and no one would notice, nor would they care. Life would continue as always. And that's what terrified him; he'd just disappear like so many others.

That's why he was going to keep fighting this demon with everything he had, why he'd keep on fighting until his heart stopped beating, why he was resisting the temptation to give up.

He wasn't surprised then the door flew open, he had known Damien would come for him eventually. His hand reached out grabbing the nearest thing to himself. He looked down at the object in his hand, a crucifix covered in dirt and dust. A fitting weapon for fitting a demon.

"Oh you plan on fighting? Well, well limey things just keep getting more and more interesting with you, don't they? Shame I'm going to have to kill you now, you might have been fun to keep around, oh well it can't be helped." With that Damien lept from the back of the building onto a pew a couple down from where Pip was still seated.

With unsteady feet the long haired blonde stood, crucifix raised, with a cry unlike him he charged the demon. One flick of the hand was all it took for Damien to knock the crucifix out of his hand, another push on the boy chest sent him flying backwards, crashing into the pews.

"How disappointing, is that your best? If you wish to live you're going to have to do better than that." Pip groaned as he felt something warm and wet drip onto the back of his neck. Lifting his head up slightly his saw the demon approaching him, reveling in the sight of Pip on the ground bleeding.

"Your so pretty though, I'm almost tempted to keep you," the black haired boy sighed "But alas almost isn't good enough"

And with those words Pip drew in one last breath as the demon above prepared to deliver the final blow. With that last breath he said one word, one final word that both saved him and condemned him.

"Goodbye."

* * *

_Author's Note_

_I wrote this for my English class and thought I might post it here. I'd like to say that the views on religion aren't necessarily mine. Oh and Happy Valentine's Day!  
_


End file.
